April 2026
Phyllis Shragge

The term “active senior” puzzles me. What does it even mean? Does it refer to someone in superb physical shape like a particular friend of mine? This friend works out at a gym four days a week. She’s in her 70s and her body is as hard as a rock. Even her arms are firm and solid. No batwings. No flabby underarms that wave with minimal movement.
Then there’s the rest of us in the so-called active senior category. I’m in okay physical shape. I walk. I do a bit of exercise. I try to eat well. But admittedly, if sometime soon I find myself chased through a dark alleyway by a threatening stranger, I won’t be able to hold my own. I’d be out of breath in minutes and barely able to walk, much less run. 

But regardless of our degree of physical fitness, my subset of elderly people—the active senior division—have something in common. We all acknowledge with certainty that it’s downhill from here.

I realize this is a negative attitude that seems more than a bit disheartening, but active seniors are complicated. On the one hand, we consider our chronological age to be a lie. There’s no way, we tell ourselves, that we can really be in our late 60s or 70s, and certainly not in our 80s. For heaven’s sake, we look younger, or at least we try to appear younger, than our parents did at our age. And we do everything we can to keep our minds intact. We try to stay on top of current events. We understand the intricacies of the iPhone, at least somewhat. Our memories, of course, could be better (What was the word for that thingamajig?), but all in all, we are young for our age. We are shocked when we realize we’re in a higher-risk medical category when it comes to vaccination eligibility. And we can’t fathom that a radio announcer just described someone in our age bracket as elderly.

And yet, with all this self-deception, we are pessimistic (or realistic?) when it comes to the future. If we live in a house or a townhouse, we consider moving to a condo because we’re sure that at some point our knees won’t be able to handle going up and down the stairs. When we picture ourselves down the road, we imagine being hit with a devastating illness, being physically frail or ravaged by dementia. We see our adult children taking over our responsibilities. We see lost independence and quality of life. We wonder if it would be better to die suddenly rather than getting old.

Most of us of a certain age catastrophize about the future. If we are healthy, we know our good fortune may not last for long. If we, or our loved ones, are ill, the days ahead look bleak. 

We know we should enjoy each day and not worry about what lies ahead, but it’s easier said than done. Perhaps, we should be busier so we can subdue those intrusive thoughts and limit their power over us. But how busy is busy enough? Most of us have full days, with various activities, but do we need to stretch ourselves? Since it’s quite apparent that we are not our chronological ages, maybe we underestimate our capabilities. Should we try hang gliding or skydiving? Well, maybe not, but perhaps we should explore other possibilities, like learning Italian or taking violin lessons. They do say that learning a new skill Might ward off dementia. (I say Might with a capital M because I’d like to see the proof.) 

What’s the point of looking ahead? Maybe we should live one day at a time. Perhaps the answer to all of this is to enjoy that extra piece of chocolate cake or a second glass of wine.

Because even though old age may be around the corner for active seniors, we’re not there yet. And frankly, we have learned a lot over the years. Let’s appreciate the wisdom we’ve acquired through our good and not-so-good choices. We are strong. We are capable. And as Betty Friedan once said, “Aging is not ‘lost youth’ but a new stage of opportunity and strength.”